A Frightfully Good Time Was Had By All...

I tried all day yesterday to upload some pictures from my Halloween party, but Blogger just wouldn't cooperate. *sigh* But today, the forces of the universe are flowing in my direction, and here they are! First up, a nice shot of the graveyard:


Here's three of the cutest witches you'll ever see:

He wants his mummy:


Like mother, like daughter (that's me with the bird):


One seriously weird dude:


Madame Zelda draws a crowd:


It was tons of fun, tons of candy, tons of people and tons of work! LOL But we all had fun, and the best part is that we raised almost $500.00 for the Freedom Playground Foundation, which is a local charity working to build an 'all-access' playground for handicapped children.

Now can somebody come help me take all this Halloween stuff down?

'Telvira' Wishes You A Happy Halloween!

How do you like my.... pumpkins? LOL

My friend Kimmi is a whiz with Photoshop, and was kind enough to 'morph' a photo of me and Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. (hence, 'Telvira') It was too good to go to waste. And please, make no mistake - my 'pumpkins' are nowhere near that big!

Today is a big day (and night) at my house... Madame Zelda's Haunted Graveyard (i.e., my backyard) is bursting with tombstones, dripping with purple lights and cobwebs, and ready to rock the neighborhood! All I need now is a little more 'fog juice' for the fog machines, some black lipstick and grape juice for the 'witch's brew'. I have a crew of giggly teenage girls in costume to help with crowd control, Madame Zelda has brushed off her prediction skills, and Witchy-Poo is ready to cackle her way into the hearts of trick-or-treaters everywhere. If you haven't seen the slideshow I made of last year's monster bash yet, then click here for a real treat.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. My girlfriend Maria and I would go trick-or-treating for hours by ourselves - nobody worried about anything bad happening. (Although my mother would never let me eat any candied apples for fear of razor blades. Like I wanted to eat an apple when I had all the candy! Duh.) :)

Do you have a favorite Halloween memory you'd like to share? I'd love to hear it.

Happy Halloween, everybody!

HOWL-o-ween

I'd howl, too, if my owner did this to me:

(The 'Force' is definitely NOT with this poor pup.)

Or what about this one:

(Poor little Pocahontas might wanna trade some beads for some plastic surgery.)

I think somebody deserves to walk the plank for this one:

(Avast there, ye scurvy sea dog! Where's me biscuit?)

Harry who?

(Just wait until Professor Dumbledore hears about this...)

And my personal favorite:

(Arise, my beloved, and become one of the doggy undead!)

I'm an 'IT' Girl!

Tag, you're IT! I've been 'tagged' twice this week, once by my dear friend Tawny Weber, who wants to know about my book-reading habits, and yet again by Michelle Cweirtney over at The Writer's Vibe, who actually thinks five exciting things may have happened to me in my lifetime! :)

I'll start with the five interesting things:

1) I've lived in a haunted house. When my husband and I were first married, we moved into a different part of town. Unsure whether we wanted to make the move permanent or not, we decided to rent instead of buy, and ended up in this great little red brick house - white trim, good schools, nice tree-lined neighborhood. A few months after we moved in, my teenage step-daughter came to me one morning and told me that she'd seen the transparent figure of a man in the hallway outside the bathroom door in the wee hours of the morning, and that while she'd watched, he'd vanished. It freaked me out enough to check with the neighbors about the house, and lo-and-behold, the house had been the scene of a murder/suicide. I did further digging, and found the actual newspaper article about the murder. The man who owned the house had been quite a 'player', and a jealous girlfriend had finally decided to put an end to his philandering. When I read that the murdered man had been found in the hallway outside the bathroom door, that was it for me... we were outta that house. There's more, but I won't bore you. :) We moved a very short time later.

2) I've been 'stalked'. Long story, involving a restraining order, expensive lawyers and recurring nightmares. Ugh. 'Nuff said.

3) I'm the youngest of five children, four girls and a boy. Air Force brats all, each one of us born in a different city, state and/or country. Believe it or not, I'm the 'smart one'. *snort* Oh, and I come from a long line of sharecroppers and moonshiners... my paternal granddaddy was on the run from the Revenoo-ers when he settled in my hometown.

4) My husband's wedding ring is engraved 'Love At First Sight', because that's what he claims it was for him. I, on the other hand, was too busy thinking how great he looked in his athletic shorts and trying to wipe the drool from my chin without him noticing.

5) I read over 500 words a minute. At least, that was my measure in high school, which was... well, never mind how long ago it was. That means I read a lot, and I read fast.

Which brings me to Tawny's 'tag' and the books that have most influenced my life.

Which is another blog entirely. :)

Eeewwww....

I brought it on myself, I suppose. Yesterday afternoon I got it in my head that I wanted... nay, needed... a special something for my Halloween graveyard (construction has begun on this year's backyard neighborhood monster bash - more on that in another blog). Anyway, I went to my favorite discount store: nada. I went to my second favorite discount store: still nothing. On impulse, I stopped in a store I don't normally go to, just on the off chance they'd have exactly what I need.

Sometimes you get lucky.

This was not the day.

I did a quick run-through, scoping the aisles for already discounted Halloween decorations and various odds and ends that could be used for the fortune-teller's den, the wicked witch's hut, etc. Disappointed in my search, I was headed back toward the door, ready to leave the store, when I saw it: a long table full of Halloween markdowns, just waiting for me. Come to mama, baby. :)

So I'm pawing through cute little candy dishes and candleholders and various Halloween crafts, etc., when I see this really cool witch's broom leaning against the wall. It's all gnarly and authentic looking, except for some ribbon that could be easily removed, and best of all: it's on sale! I reach out to pick it up, and notice that right where anyone's hand would naturally go, there's an extremely realistic wooden cockroach glued to the handle. Yucky, but I can't help but think: Nice touch.

It's so realistic, though, that I lean in to check it out. Wow, I think, somebody went to a lot of trouble... that ugly little sucker looks like the genuine article. My hand is inches away, and so's my face. Coward that I am (I despise cockroaches, I blew on the bug.

And it moved.

Thank goodness there was nobody near me, or they'd have been mowed down by one seriously freaked-out woman. I was ready to bolt, but I made myself go find a manager, pointed out the bug, and left while he was preparing to take care of it.

I'll never set foot in that store again, and as for the candy on that discount table... eeewwwww.

Fun With Pumpkins and Gourds

And last, but certainly not least... :)


Okay, that last one was naughty - but somebody gets extra points for creativity! LOL

Tarot Psychiatry

Oh, that it 'twere that easy. :)

But apparently, it is. Through the magic of the Internet, you can take a little random quiz, and you, too, can be analyzed as easily as this:

You Are The Moon

You represent the unconscious side of life, what happens in dreams.You are capable of great genius - but also of great madness.Emotions tend to be primal for you, both your fears and your fantasies. Your intuition is always right, listening to it is the difficult part. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a very important journey - and a very difficult one.Some of your deepest dreams will be realized, as well as some of your deepest nightmares.Follow your creativity and visions; stay away from your weaknesses.You are taking a voyage to the center of yourself, and you may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.

Who knew I was so deep? My mother always said there was a fine line between genius, and madness. And here I thought she was always talking about my sister. :)

So, What Tarot Card Are You?

Demons Are A Ghoul's Best Friend

Remember the boogeyman under the bed? The monster in the closet? I remember going to bed with a scarf wrapped around my neck to protect me from vampires, but childhood fears didn't keep from watching old reruns of my favorite gothic soap opera, Dark Shadows. A sexy werewolf named Quentin Collins and a lonely, misunderstood vampire named Barnabas? I'm there! I'm still afraid of the dark, but I'll eagerly curl up to listen if Brad Pitt wants to tells me his woes as the courtly vampire Louis, in Anne Rice's 'Interview with a Vampire'. Antonio Banderas is in that movie, too - he made an absolutely delicious vampire Armand.

What's the attraction? How do I reconcile being such a scairdy cat with being so attracted to bad boys with a dark side? (Only in theory, of course - my husband, Capt. America, has supernatural powers, too, but he uses them only for good.) ;p It isn't just vampires... it's the idea of the ultimate, misunderstood bad boy. The bad boy with the good side who wants to be good, but is trapped, governed by fate or fortune or forces beyond his control. Poor, misunderstood bad boy. LOL Did anyone see Edward Scissorhands ?

Anyway, I'm lucky these days... I can take my childhood fears and turn the boogeyman under the bed into a sexy spirit who absolutely loves blonde women who write books for a living. I can take that monster in the closet and turn him into a good-looking ghost who craves the arms of a mortal woman (hey, sometimes those bumps in the night can be a good thing). :)

The manuscript I'm working on right now, WHERE THE GHOULS ARE, has a male character who's such a bad boy that he's distracting me from the main story. Oh, that Sammy Divine... he's got a story to tell, that one. And he's determined to tell it his own way, in his own time, with a wicked wink, a killer grin and a bad boy swagger.

The point is, I like sexy hunks with a dark side as long as they stay under the bed until I call them, and then let me call the shots. How about you?

Friday the 13th

*cue spooky music*

Are you, by any chance, 'paraskevadekatriaphobic'? If you are, you have an irrational fear of Friday the 13th. Perhaps you're only 'triskaidekaphobic', and fear the number 13 in general. Either way, get thee to a therapist, because today is NOT your lucky day!

What is it about Friday the 13th that makes it so unlucky, hm? (Other than those horrible Freddie Krueger movies. Ick.) Theories abound as to why we fear the number 13, so I did a little digging into the reasons behind this particular superstition. Here are some ancient legends regarding its origin:

Judas Iscariot was the last disciple to arrive at the Last Supper, raising the number of attendees to 13 (Jesus plus the 12 disciples). This betrayer of Jesus also supposedly spilled the salt, which gave rise to another superstition, but one phobia at a time... :)

In a similiar story from Norse mythology, 12 gods were summoned to a banquet in Valhalla. Guest number 13 showed up uninvited: Loki, god of evil.

Ancient Romans associated the number 13 with death and misfortune. According to the Roman clock, there were 12 months in a year and 12 hours in a day, so 13 was seen as a violation of the natural cycle.

To the Egyptians, 13 represented the final rung of the ladder by which the soul reached eternity.

In modern-day times, the unpleasant beliefs and traditions regarding the number 13 continue:

It takes 13 witches to form a coven.

The 13th card in a Tarot deck is the skeleton - Death.

Many buildings do not have a 13th floor. Many cities do not have a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue.

It's considered bad luck to invite 13 people to a dinner party - supposedly one of them will die within a year.

But what about good old Friday, everyone's favorite day of the week? (TGIF, people! End of the week and the weekend lies ahead, remember?) Why does Friday get such a bad reputation when paired with the number 13?

According to what I found in my nosing around, it seems as though most of the bad luck associated with Fridays is Biblical: tradition holds Adam bit into forbidden fruit on a Friday; that the Great Flood began on a Friday; the Temple of Solomon was destroyed on a Friday; and, of course, Friday was the day of the week on which Christ was crucified.

So while the 'thirteenaphobes' stay in bed with the covers pulled over their heads, and the teenagers gather for late night 'slasher flick' marathons, I'm gonna live dangerously today by venturing to the mall. :) The only slashing I'm interested in on Friday the 13th is slashed prices, and I'm not afraid to venture out on the unluckiest day of the year.

After all, there can't possibly be any truth to a silly superstition like this one... can there?

Dog Ate Your Homework? No Problem!

We’ve all heard the phrase: ‘Do your homework’. Easier said than done in the literary world – unless we’re willing to sift through a mountain of dry facts in publications like The Writer’s Market, or spend untold hours surfing the Internet, how do we know 'which' literary agent wants ‘what’, and exactly how they want it?

Six literary agents were on hand October 7th at the NJRW’s 2006 Put Your Heart In A Book Conference to share their likes, dislikes and personal style. For those who were unable to attend, I thought I’d share the experience, and hopefully save you a little homework. :)

Nadia Cornier of Firebrand Literary is young, hip and cheerful. Her dark hair is short and curly, and she wears cool glasses, a black t-shirt and jeans. Nadia started Firebrand in September 2005 at the age of 24, and has a special interest in Young Adult fiction. She accepts e-queries only, and will ask for more material if she’s interested. When it comes to writing, Nadia emphasizes ‘quality vs. quantity’, but prefers both – excellent writers who are fairly prolific.

Christina Hogrebe of the Jane Rotrosen Agency is also young, hip and cheerful, with wavy auburn hair just brushing the shoulders of a fashionable brown suit. The Rotrosen Agency has been in business for over 30 years, and Christina has worked there since 2003. Christina is looking for mysteries, thrillers, and young adult, but stresses that she’s not limited to those genres; she’s searching for well-told stories written in excellent ‘voice’. Her submission preference is a one page query letter, with a synopsis and first 3 chapters (snail mail only). It should be noted that Christina is the only agent at the Rotrosen Agency who is currently accepting unsolicited material.

Christine Witthohn formed Book Cents Literary just a little over a month ago, and has a preference for murder mysteries and thrillers. Christine lives in W. Virginia, has a pleasant, professional style, curly blonde hair and a background in medicine. She would like to see a short query letter, a synopsis and first 3 chapters.

UPDATE AS OF 10/28/06: Christine Witthohn has provided her agency's website address. Visit Book Cents Literary at http://www.bookcentsliteraryagency.com. Thanks, Christine! :)

Natalia Aponte is a former editor at Tor who has gone on to form her own agency, Aponte Literary. With short, dark hair and a no-nonsense manner, Natalia has no particular genre preference, but is always looking for strong writing. She prefers to correspond by email, and likes to see a query, synopsis and the first 50 pages.

Miriam Kriss is Vice-President of the Irene Goodman Agency, an agency which has been in business over 25 years. A young woman with glasses and a mane of curly brown hair, Miriam emphasizes that while she loves women’s stories, strong voice and good writing, her focus as an agent is always on author career planning. She likes to see a query letter, synopsis and the first 1-3 chapters, by snail mail only. No e-queries.

Mary Sue Seymour of The Seymour Agency is her own boss, representing about 40 clients. Long blonde hair and soft-spoken manner, Mary Sue is especially interested in Christian-themed books, romance and non-fiction only. Her submission preference is a 5 page synopsis and the first 50 pages by snail mail. No equeries.

As a group, five of the six agents (Nadia being the exception) stated that the synopsis is a very important part of any submission, and is usually what they read first. A synopsis should tell the beginning, middle and the end of your story, and should reflect the ‘tone’ of the manuscript itself (i.e., if your story is a romantic comedy, your synopsis should be entertaining; a romantic suspense would read as darker, grittier, etc.) Requested materials are always responded to faster than unsolicited materials, and when it comes to author follow-up, Miriam Kriss offered this gem of advice: Follow up by ‘how the agent contacted you’. In other words, if you received a phone call asking to see more of your work, you can follow up with a phone call after a reasonable amount of time has passed. if you were asked to submit material by letter, follow up with a letter. If you were emailed, feel free to email back. However, if you were not asked to submit, and sent unsolicited material anyway, then you should simply be patient, no matter how long it takes. Slush piles are large, and agents don’t have time to sift through them to follow up on an unsolicited submission.

When it comes to current trends, it appears that both ‘sexy’ and ‘spiritual’ books seem to be on the upswing. The general consensus was that Chick Lit was no long quite so ‘hot’, unless the story itself has that elusive ‘something different’. Vampires seemed to have glutted the desks of editors everywhere and drained the market dry (sorry, couldn’t resist), while the field of Sci-Fi is growing. Young adult novels are increasingly popular. All six agents agreed that knowing the market and staying ahead of trends are the best strategies to follow, and that good writing is always the key.

And the final and most consistent piece of advice? Do your homework.

Which you just did. :)

Instead of a gold star, you now get to pick your dream agent... doesn't have to be one on this list. If you could choose anyone in the world to represent you, who would you choose?

Home From New Jersey

I just got back from attending my third 'Put Your Heart In A Book' conference in beautiful *ahem* Iselin, New Jersey. (Don't make the mistake of calling the town 'Icelan' unless you enjoy rude cabbies.) For the second year in a row, what should've been an easy 2.5 hour direct flight turned into a 8 hour nightmare of delayed flights and airport snafus. I'd planned carefully, intending to arrive early morning on Friday for two full days of networking, socializing and workshops, but didn't actually get checked into my room until 8:30 Friday night, missing the entire first day of the conference. Sigh. Other than that, I had a great time!

Here I am with some of my best writing buds (l to r), Anna Sugden, Janice Lynn and Kathleen Long. Not nearly enough time to catch up properly, but did get to crash in Janice and Kath's room for an impromptu pajama party Friday night. I was supposed to moderate a workshop on 'Panic-free Pitching' with Anna on Friday afternoon, but Janice kindly stepped up and covered for me while I was in airport hell.

Saturday morning I attended a hilarious workshop by Victoria Alexander called 'You Don't Have to be Crazy to be a Writer, But It Really, Really Helps'. After that, it was off to attend Jennifer Crusie & Bob Mayer's workshop, called 'Yex & Violence' - what a odd couple they are! Total opposites. Bob is straight guy to Jenny's comedic putdowns, but both of them are so talented and funny that the routine completely works.

One of the high points of the day was an hour and a half lunch with one of my agents, Christina Hogrebe of the Rotrosen Agency. We were joined by NYT bestselling author Carla Neggers and well-known mystery writer Nancy Martin . Both ladies were incredibly gracious to a newbie like me - I got to hear all about book tours and dealing with booksellers and even help do a little brainstorming on a future book of Nancy's. I spent most of the hour and a half trying not to get ketchup on my shirt and pretending to be totally cool with lunching with big name authors. :) Afterward, Christina introduced me to Jenny Crusie, and I had a great chat with suspense writer Mariah Stewart. I owe Mariah so much... she was the first to tell me to 'aim high' when it came to looking for an agent, and has been a wonderful friend and support.

After lunch, I attended an agent panel with Nadia Cornier of Firebrand Literary, Christina Hogrebe, Christine Witthohn of Book Cents Literary, Natalia Aponte of Natalia Aponte Literary, Miriam Kriss of Irene Goodman Literary and Mary Sue Seymour. I'm writing an article on that, as it's way too much info to include in this post :). Check back in a couple of days and I'll have the finished article posted here on my blog.

All in all, a wonderful conference, but boy, was it good to get home!

I've met so many wonderful people at conferences... who would you most like to meet at a writer's conference?

The Haunted Corner

One of the writing groups I belong to has this cool writing exercise once a week or so, where a picture is chosen at random, and those who participate are challenged to write a very short story, as quickly as possible, about the photo. I usually only do it when the picture itself speaks to me, as this one did. The name of the photo is called "The Haunted Corner". How could I resist? :) Anyway, here's my 'off-the-cuff' creative exercise:

The Haunted Corner

Opal Myers sat in her favorite chair, right by the window, where she could watch the world go by without ever leaving the plush comfort of her home. While others stood in bread lines and whined about lack of work, Opal had merely to ring a small bell and food would be brought to her on a tray. Another ring, and the tray would be taken away, the crumbs no doubt eaten by a sneaky servant girl before they reached the kitchen.

Opal didn't care. Let them eat cake. Depression, indeed. The poor deserved their fate... they either hadn't the guts to work hard, or they hadn't the wits to marry money. She'd done both.

"Wow, honey... look at this place." A man's voice disturbed Opal's privacy, but she didn't look away from the window. The man would be gone soon enough. "Still looks like it did in 40's."

"The 30's, actually." A woman's voice answered him, a voice that Opal found vaguely familiar. Familiar enough to ignore. "We at Hampton House take great pride in keeping the house just the way it looked when the murder occurred. Opal Myers was killed right there, in that chair."

"Ew... how creepy." Another woman's voice, different from the first. "By her own son? That's what the brochure said."

"It was never proven who did it, but the son was the number one suspect. He disappeared right after the murder and was never seen again."

Opal settled herself more deeply into the chair and smiled a chilly smile. Her son would come home eventually, and when he did, she'd be waiting.

October - My Fall Fav

I don't know if it's just the happy childhood memories of Halloween, the much-needed break from the Florida heat, or just the subliminal message that the holiday season has begun, but October is, and always has been, my absolute favorite month of the year. I've always been so jealous of people who live in other parts of the country during October - they get to see the leaves change, enjoy bright splashes of color on the hillsides, crunch through fallen orange and yellow leaves. They get to enjoy crisp apple cider by a roaring fire, wear boots and cableknit sweaters, see the frost on the pumpkins. At least that's my fall fantasy....aah... lucky dogs. It's green where I live, green with palm trees year-round. I only get to wear my black leather jacket once or twice a year.

Maybe it's just the fantasy of fall I love so much, but I always look forward to October. :) So here's a few tidbits about the month itself:

If you were born in October, you're either a Libra (Sept 23–Oct 23) or a Scorpio (Oct 24–Nov 21). (Scorpio here, passionate to the extreme, but you Librans are so calm and laid back... very nice sign to be born under.)

Your birthstone is the opal, a very pretty gemstone with a fiery array of colors; blues, greens, reds and even oranges. (Such beautiful stones - no two are alike.)

Friday the 13th will be in October this year... isn't that cool?

So how is October where you live? When do the leaves change in your area? Dragged out those sweaters yet? Lucky dogs....

'Tell Me Your Ghost Story' Contest

Where would a paranormal writer be without a special place in her heart for Halloween, spooky stories and chocolate, hm? :)

Fiendish little ghoul that I am, I'm holding the 2nd Annual Tell Me Your Ghost Story Contest on my website during the month of October!

Tell me the spookiest thing that's ever happened to you (or someone you know), and you could win some Halloween Godiva Chocolate (something sweet):

and a copy of the Oxford Book of Victorian Ghost Stories (something scary):


I've already gotten some pretty creepy stories! The winner will be announced on October 21, 2006 (just before Halloween!), and the story published on my website. You can read last year's winning entries here.

Go ahead, ghoulfriend... tell me your story! You know you want to. :)

The Hollywood Treatment

I stole this idea from my friend, Ellen Meister who has a really cool book out right now, entitled Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA (it's a hilarious look at what happens when three suburban housewives conspire to bring George Clooney to their town to film a movie. Check it out.)

Anyway, the idea here is that if you had 30 seconds to pitch your novel to a Hollywood producer, what would you say, and who would you cast as your main characters?

For Dead Girls Are Easy (coming July 2007 from Avon Books, YAY!), I'd probably pitch something like:

A former Goth girl has a near-death experience, and wakes to find herself an unwilling 'ghoulfriend' to the dead.

Who would I cast? Hm... tougher call than one might think. For my smart-aleck, fashion-conscious heroine Nicki Styx, I think Zooey Deschanel would work. She's got the right attitude, gorgeous eyes, and a fashion sense all her own. (Her real-life sister, Emily Deschanel, plays the no-nonsense Temperance Brennan on Bones, so she'd be perfect for Nicki's not-so-twin sister, Kelly.)

For the lovable and sexy Dr. Joe Bascombe, the man who brought Nicki back to life (in more ways than one *g*), I'd have to choose Patrick Dempsey from Grey's Anatomy. I still have to struggle with my memories of him as Will's gay boyfriend on Will & Grace (one of my favorite shows, btw), but I can suspend disbelief long enough to see him as Joe.

And finally, (and perhaps the easiest of all), would be the irrepressible, outrageous Evan Owenby, Nicki's best friend and business partner. Who better to play the gay co-owner of a vintage clothing store called 'Handbags N' Gladrags' than Carson Kressley, America's favorite Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

So now I challenge you aspiring writers out there to do your own 'Hollywood Treatment' on your story. Who would you choose to play your main characters, and why?

Shake N' Bake

Ok, this is getting ridiculous.

As a Florida native (yes, we do exist) I'm used to searing heat, humidity you can swim through, mosquitoes the size of dragonflies, alligators in the retention ponds, hurricane season, love bugs, tropical monsoons and frequent lightning storms.

But earthquakes? This is just too much!

A 6.0 earthquake in the Gulf of Mexico rattled windows in Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana last Sunday. Looking at this map, that sucker was WAAAY too close for comfort. Luckily, I didn't feel it - if I had I'd probably still be in bed with the covers over my head. Unbeknownst to me, there was a 5.2 temblor in the same location on Feb. 10th, and there are still possible aftershocks expected.

Um, can you say 'tsunami'? Though we've been assured there's no current danger of that, due to the type of quake this was (thrusting vs. shifting), we in Florida are not amused.

No offense, Mother Nature, but you can be a real bitch.

However, this whole 'earthquake in the Gulf' thing got me thinking about how we go along fat, dumb and happy most of the time - until something happens to 'shake us up'. Anything happen to you lately that made you rethink something you thought was true or constant in your own life?

Freaky Factoid Friday

Bet you can't say that three times, fast. :)

Since my writing life revolves around 'spooky' stuff, I do a lot of research into the paranormal realms. Well, to be honest, I've always done a lot of research into 'spooky' stuff - a result of too many rainy afternoons watching re-runs of the classic gothic soap opera, Dark Shadows, I suppose. (I don't regret a minute of it, Barnabas! Not a minute! :-p)

Anyway, I thought it might be fun to share some of the weird things I've learned through the years:

--According to measurements taken at the moment of death, the human soul weighs three-fourths of an ounce.

--Tombstones were originally put over graves not as memorials, but so the dead couldn't escape.

--The Japanese wear white after the death of a loved one, not black.

--Once a death has occurred, those of the Jewish faith will open all the windows in the house so the soul can escape.

--Neanderthals buried their dead curled in a fetal position, always facing the sunrise, as though they were being 'born again'.

--The most common word spoken by a dying person is "Mother" or "Mommy".

Freaky enough for ya? Happy Friday! LOL

Crikey.

Hard to believe.

Unbelievable, in fact.

Steve Irwin, everyone's favorite Aussie, better known as the Crocodile Hunter... gone. Death by 'freak accident', the news says. I'm not buying the 'freak accident' spin for one moment. Couldn't they have come up with a better tribute than that?

He died in a split second's worth of judgement, a hairsbreath moment of decision between man and nature... one I've seen him make on TV time and and time again. I've seen him bitten in the face by a snake, bitten on the arm by a lizard, hold a deadly scorpion in the palm of his hand, twitch his arms and legs out of the danger zone more times than I can count, smiling all the while.

This time, he quite simply didn't flinch fast enough.

The odds of being stung by a stingray while filming a documentary? Small. The odds of being stabbed directly in the heart while swimming over one? Much smaller. The odds of surviving? Infinitesimal.

Considering what Steve Irwin did for a living, it wasn't freakish at all. It was a weird, yet somehow fitting end. After all, how does a living legend want it all to end... wearing boxer shorts in his living room, Fosters in one hand and the remote in the other?

Sad for his family. Heartbreaking to those who will miss his irrepressible sense of fun and daredevil attitude. But not freakish at all. I haven't felt this sad about the death of a total stranger since Princess Diana died. Another good person, a public figure who tried to make a difference, gone before their time.

Crikey.

Pen Pals

I belong to a small writing group of extremely talented, extremely supportive women who call ourselves "The Writer's Playground" (not to be confused with another group out there who call themselves the Playground, too, but whatever *grin*). Our group began when we got our hands slapped for having too much fun on a bigger loop, so we naughty girls spun off and formed a group of our own - we even invited the 'handslapper' to join us, and she did! We joke, giggle, laugh, cry, share dream hunks and even bigger writing dreams, critique, encourage, comfort and support each other. You can see most of them in my photo gallery.

Since we formed our Playground in March of 2004, 7 of our 18 members have finaled in the Golden Heart (multiple times), there have been more RWA chapter contest wins than I can possibly count, 8 of us have signed with literary agents, and 6 of us (including me) have gone on to achieve our ultimate goal of publication.

Last year we began a new tradition: when one of us sells, the rest of us chip in for gifts: a customized 'Build-A-Bear' based on the genre of our books, a bookbag imprinted with the book cover, and/or a beautiful, personally engraved fountain pen to sign those precious contracts. Here's mine... ain't it purty?

And here, without further ado, are the newest contract signings by my Pals:

New Harlequin Blaze author Tawny Weber signing her contract for 'Double Dare', with her purple pen.
New Harlequin Historical author Stacey Lynn Reimer (a/k/a Stacey Kayne) signing her contract for 'Mustang Wild' with her green pen.
And yours truly, signing her contract with Avon HarperCollins for 'Dead Girls Are Easy' and 'Where The Ghouls Are', with my green pen (Stacey always copies me *snicker*).

Do you have any 'Pen Pals' in your life? Someone to share the ups and downs of your writing with? If you don't, find some. I was extremely lucky to find mine, and it's made the journey all the sweeter.

Day of the Dolphins

Living in Florida has its perks.

Late yesterday, my husband and I decided to treat ourselves to a nice seafood dinner at one of our many local waterfront restaurants. Life has been a bit stressful lately because of some family issues, and we felt the need to relax, unwind, breathe some of those salt air 'ions' that really do give your mood a lift. (They work - trust me.) We asked for a window seat overlooking the bay, and sat there (cold beer in hand), watching the ripples on the water, the sunset reflecting on distant high-rises, a tall white heron stalking fish along the shoreline.

And then I saw them. Three fins breaking the surface, three quick blasts of air and water marking them as a trio of dolphins, out for an early dinner in the shallows of the bay. We watched, oohing and aahing as they appeared and disappeared, breaking the surface, gray backs glistening as they dived and circled. And suddenly, I was reminded of one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. If you haven't seen this one, you should: directed by Jodie Foster, starring Holly Hunter, Robert Downey, Jr., a young Claire Danes, and the very hunky Dylan McDermott. Holly Hunter has gone home to be with her elderly parents and completely dysfunctional extended family for the Thanksgiving holidays. Though she loves them, she finds herself very quickly going nuts, locked in a bathroom for some privacy, and talking to her teenage daughter on the phone just for the sense of normalcy and sanity it gives her. Her daughter reminds her of a scuba trip they took together where they watched an angel fish swimming peacefully beneath the sea, all silence and beauty, and tells her mom, "Remember the fish, Mom. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming."

Not only can I relate to the dysfunctional family part :), the advice was perfect. I can only do what I can do, and what other people do is, for the most part, beyond my control. I'll just keep swimming, one eye on the shore and the other on the unknown deep. Every once in a while I'll come up for air, splash around a little for good measure, then submerge myself back into the water that is my life. A life which, for the most part, is pretty darn good.

It got me wondering, though... what's your favorite way to make a splash? A night out, a day in your jammies, an afternoon at the mall? What helps you 'keep swimming'?

I Enjoy Being A Ghoul

Meet Grandma Ghoulie. :)

She was kind enough to direct my friends and neighbors into my backyard last year for my annual Halloween party, better known as 'Madame Zelda's Haunted Graveyard.' The lawn is transformed into a cemetary, the garden shed becomes a fortuneteller's hut (complete with a real Madame Zelda, thanks to one of my equally ghoulish ghoulfriends), spooky music plays and fog machines abound. It's so much fun!!!

Yes, it's true...everyone who knows me knows I have a problem... I'm a Halloween fiend. Nothing makes my evil little heart go pitter-patter more quickly than to see the first rows of skeleton heads leering at me from the store shelves; the fake tombstones looking totally out of place in the brightly lit aisles; the orange pumpkins, black spiders, purple glitter and grinning ghosts. Luckily for me, Halloween retail madness begins a little earlier every year, so I don't have to go as long between my 'spooky fixes'. :) August isn't over yet, but I'm already planning this year's party.

Here are some more highlights from last year. Don't you wish you could come?
Shh...don't wake the spirits...
I'll get you next year, my pretty! I see some serious therapy in your future...

Baby? Maybe.

What is it about biological urges, anyway?

Someone I know really wants a baby (no, not me! Been there...done that...got the t-shirt!), but I remember the urge very well. How could I not? I vividly remember the moments when my boys were placed in my arms for the first time. The sight of their tiny, scrunched-up faces, their teeny little fingers and toes, the unbelievable clench in my heart that sealed them as the loves of my life forever. Babies are wonderful. Helpless little cuddly bundles whose first smiles, first words, first steps, first everythings bring joy to your life. The diapers, the fussiness, the sleepless nights, the tantrums, the high fevers, the worry... all of that pales in comparison, and is shuffled off to the darkest depths of our minds until we have to actually deal with it. Then, like childbirth itself, we forget about all those inconveniences once they've passed.

God is very, very clever. He makes babies too adorable to resist. Life would cease to exist otherwise. We must have them. We must take care of them. We must shower them with love and affection, and they will be our perfect darlings, always and forever.

Right. How many times have you heard a childless person say, "My child will never pitch a fit in the grocery store - he/she must just be a bad parent. If only they'd talk to the child." Or, "My child will never lie to me. We'll always be able to talk honestly, about anything." How about the classic, "My child would never behave like that in school - is there anything wrong at home?".

Knowing what I know now, everytime I hear someone say "I want a baby", I resist the urge to point out that the baby will be a toddler one day. That baby will go from clinging to your neck to screaming his/her head off every time he/she is denied, delayed, or simply feels like, well... screaming his/her head off. That cute little toddler will become a pre-teen, rolling his/her eyes every time you open your mouth. That pre-teen will become a bona-fide teenager, and you will go from being the center of your child's universe to being the stupidest person on the planet. If you're lucky (and I am), you'll survive it all, and the day will come when you look up and see this responsible, mature young person who can actually bring themselves, once again, to say, "I love you, Mom."

You want a baby? Might as well cut to the chase and say, "I want a teenager."

Doesn't have quite the same effect, though, does it? :-)

Whine Time. Not.

This is one of my favorite t-shirts.

Kinda says it all, doesn't it? I'm not big on whining... never have been. It's not that I'm unsympathetic -- I know how to pat somebody's head or hold somebody's hand when they need it, and most of the time I don't mind a bit. That's what friends are for, aren't they? But some people take it to extremes, and that's when my sympathy tends to wane.

I'm willing to bet that we all know someone who's always having a crisis of some kind; someone who's so focused on themselves that they can't see the forest for the trees; someone who isn't happy unless they're miserable.

There are plenty of real reasons to whine, cry, get depressed and need a shoulder to lean on. We all have problems - some more than others, and some more often than others. It isn't good to hold them in, and it's a real blessing to have someone there when you need them.

But whining for whining's sake is a very unattractive quality. Do you or someone you love have a life threatening disease? Has someone you love died? Catch your significant other cheating on you? If not, maybe life ain't so bad.

I prefer to think about all the things I have to be thankful for... I like to imagine my glass half full instead of half empty, because I'd always rather have a little wine than listen to one. :-)

How about you?

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

Does it really matter?

Guests for dinner mean that I have to cook and clean instead of writing on my current work-in-progress, IF YOU GOT IT, HAUNT IT. I'd much rather be writing about the continuing adventures of Nicki Styx instead of being a domestic diva for a day, because... well, let's face it...

Make Believe Mondays

My friend and American Title II finalist, Debra Parmley, does a feature on her blog once a week she calls 'Make Believe Mondays'. She interviews different authors about the uses of creativity, imagination and dreams in their writing. Isn't that a clever idea?

Anyway, this week she was sweet enough to feature yours truly. You can read the interview on her website.

Thanks, Debra!

Shaken, Not Stirred

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 You scored as James Bond, Agent 007. James Bond is MI6's best agent, a suave, sophisticated super spy with charm, cunning, and a license's to kill. He doesn't care about rules or regulations and somewhat amoral. He does care about saving humanity though, as well as the beautiful women who fill his world. Bond has expensive tastes, a wide knowledge of many subjects, and his usually armed with a clever gadget and an appropriate one-liner.

Oh. My.

I love my husband. I really do. In fact, I've been known to... dare I say it? Gush. Fourteen years of marriage, three kids, the house in suburbia and all that jazz. I look forward every evening to the time he comes home after work, but I could never live up to the tips from this article from Housekeeping Monthly in 1955, entitled 'The Good Wife's Guide':

'Prepare the children. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. At the time of his arrival, minimize all noise.'
Prepare the children and keep them quiet? As in tie them to their chairs, slick back their hair and stuff socks in their mouths?

Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner without you, even if he stays out all night. Never question his actions or ask questions about where he's been.
Yeah, right. That'll happen.

Be cheerful and interesting. His boring day may need a lift and it's your duty to provide it.
Lift this, buddy. (It's called a vacuum.)

Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
Only if you truly enjoy hearing about stocks, financial planning, interest rates, and the crisis in Iraq. Oh, and let's not forget germaphobia, the benefits of exercise, wheat grass and obscure vitamins that nobody's ever heard of, and the value of alway wearing clean underwear. (I'm serious.)

Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll look refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking.
Um... gee. Thanks for the 15 minutes to rest, even if it's just for his benefit.

We women have sure come a long way, baby! I'm far from being the perfect spouse, and so is he. Luckily, I love him anyway. And luckily, he loves me, too, even if I forget to put a ribbon in my hair.

Let No Man Write My Epitaph

I'll write it myself:

*tee-hee* Ok, so I'm a little weird! Is that such a surprise? I don't have a cover yet, so I'm making do!

Whew!

I got back late yesterday from a whirlwind week in Atlanta, where I attended the 2006 RWA conference. Not only did I get to hang out with my writing buddies (check out the pictures), I attended some wonderful seminars, some fabulous parties, and managed to squeeze in a viewing of the Beluga whales and giant Whale sharks at the Atlanta Aquarium. NORA ROBERTS (can you say 'Gack!') did a fabulous job as Master of Ceremonies at the Golden Heart/Rita awards ceremony, keynote speaker MEG CABOT kept everyone in stitches as she told the story of her Hollywood premiere of THE PRINCESS DIARIES and CHRISTINA DODD inspired and entertained us all.

It was fun, informative, nerve-wracking, and did I mention... fun? Two of my favorite highlights of the trip were swapping ghost stories with my wonderful agents, Annelise Robey and Christina Hogrebe, and when I found myself seated next to the incredibly kind and gracious SUSAN ELIZABETH PHILLIPS at the Avon dinner. (I did a triple take when I saw her name on the placecard next to mine, then spent the evening trying not to drop grilled salmon down my decolletage, hoping desperately that there was no spinach salad between my teeth.) I met quite a few published authors - so many I've lost count - but Julianne MacLean, Margo Maguire and Monica Burns stand out in my memory for being so kind to a newbie like me. I made new friends in Sylvia Day, Sophie Jordan and Anna Campbell, and saw old ones like Janice Lynn, Ann Voss Peterson and Kathleen Long.

I know I'm forgetting to mention many of the people I chatted and drank with :), but my mind is still a-whirl. I never wanted it to end, and can't wait until next year!

I Yam What I Yam...

So I’m off to a big writer’s conference. Seminars, schmoozing and sensory overload… if you’ve ever been to one, you understand. If you haven’t – well, if you want to write, you must; if you don’t want to write, there’s no point, so you can stop right here.

At any rate, this one is a biggie for me.

Five years ago I went to my first writer’s conference in the wonderfully iconic Southern city of New Orleans. *sigh* (I adore N’Awlins - even now, after Hurricane Katrina has laid waste to large parts of it. The Garden District… the above-ground cemeteries… the quirky residents and ridiculous, far-too-drunken tourists… the food… the upbeat, yet undeniably morbid atmosphere… ah, but I digress.) I went to that conference knowing NOBODY. Knowing NOTHING. Except that I had an urge to write. It wasn’t enough to hear, “Oh, Terri – that article you wrote for the corporate newsletter was so good! That letter you wrote to the editor was exactly what I was thinking! Is that really how you spell ‘idiosyncrasies’? I had no idea!” I wanted to write something people would read. Would enjoy. Would think about after they closed the book and stuck it on a shelf somewhere.

And now, five years later, I’m going as a published author. Okay, a pre-published author, if you must stickle the point. (From one stickler to another, go ahead--it makes us feel better :) ).

I’ll be meeting people I previously had no access to: big name authors, literary agents, booksellers from chain stores like Borders and Barnes & Noble, sales reps from big publishing houses, public relations people, etc. I’ll be talking about ‘positioning’, marketing, future projects, trends, numbers, reviews, covers, and all that jazz. In between all this I plan on having some serious fun with the people I’ve met and giggled with over the years, both at conferences like this one and over the Internet. (The Writer’s Playground rules, ya’ll!!)

Anyway, I’ve planned my wardrobe to the N’th degree. I’ve made my lists and checked them twice. My shoes are cute and my files are organized… my house will (hopefully) not get blown away by a summer hurricane* while I’m gone and my animals won’t starve.

*Note to teenager: NO PARTIES!

Wish me luck. I’ll need it.

You Might Be A Floridian If...

• "Down South" means Key West.
• "Panhandling" means going to Pensacola
• You think no one over 70 should be allowed to drive.
• Flip-flops are everyday wear.
• Shoes are for business meetings and church.
• No, wait, flip-flops are good for church too, unless it's Easter or Christmas.
• Sweet tea can be served at any meal.
• An alligator once walked through your neighborhood.
• You smirk when a game show's "Grand Prize" is a trip or cruise to Florida.
• All the local festivals are named after a fruit, a reptile or a pirate.
• A mountain is any hill 100 feet above sea level.
• You know the four seasons really are: almost summer, summer, not summer but really hot, and Christmas.
• Anything under 95 is just warm.
• You've hosted a hurricane party.
• You understand the futility of exterminating cockroaches.
• You understand why it's better to have a friend with a boat than to have a boat yourself.

And The Award Goes To...

Me! :)

The Internet is a fascinating place. I've made many wonderful friends there, some of who I'll never meet in person, but like very much anyway. One of those people is Belos, a like-minded 'Gothic*' individual who does some wonderful work with graphics. Belos was kind enough to both devise and award me with this:


Cool, isn't it? No, I'm not a vampire, nor do I write about them (although Anne Rice's Lestat does make my evil little heart go pitter-patter), but I do write about the dark side of life, which is where the 'Gothic*' part comes in.

Let me explain. I am not a Goth... I do not mope about in corners wearing heavy black eyeliner and holding forth about the beauty of spiders and the existentialism that is death (oh my, I think I've just pissed off an entire subculture), but I do have a lifelong fascination for writers like Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson (Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me...); I adored old Dark Shadows re-runs, The Twilight Zone, The Addams Family, The Munsters and Creature Feature; and I'm sorry, but Elvira is just a genius of campy darkness. :)

I do wear black a lot (it's flattering). I like a little chill to run up my spine (anyone seen 'The Tingler' with Vincent Price? Ah... that's what I'm talking about). As long as nobody emerges from the shadows with a butcher knife and a hockey mask, I'm good. :)

So I take an award like this seriously, and I appreciate it. Thanks, Belos.

And if anybody needs some cool 'gothic' graphics, go check out his site at http://www.gothic-iowegian.com/index.html .

Does The Squeaky Wheel Really Get The Grease?

I have a dear friend who believes the answer to that question is absolutely, 100%, “Yes”. Never accept less than the best, he claims, and never hesitate to make a stink if you don’t get it. In fact, make a stink beforehand, and you’ll get treated even better.

For example: He and his wife love to travel, and because they can afford it, they stay only in 4 to 5 star hotels (must be nice, hm?). Nonetheless, no matter how swanky the surroundings, my friend’s standard practice upon checking into any hotel is to inspect the room he’s been given before signing the register. His wife will quietly take a seat in the lobby and wait for the inevitable result of this inspection, which is that my friend will return to the registration desk and demand a better room. No rooms near the elevator or the ice machine for him; no noisy a/c units or crappy views. Nuh-uh. No sir.

The kicker? He usually gets an upgrade. He expects it – nay, he demands it - and 9 times out of 10 he gets what he wants.

Me? I can’t do it. I’m too nice. The room would have to be filthy or the a/c broken before I’d complain, and then I’d do it in the nicest way possible. Does this attitude sometimes mean I’m taken advantage of? Probably. Occasionally. But most of the time, I smile, they smile, and I get what I want anyway. See, I’m a big believer in the old adage, “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.”

And I’d rather be ‘done to’ nicely, thank you. I think most people do.

What about you? Do you make a stink whenever you feel a stink needs to be made in order to get your way? Does the end really justify the means?

Something Wicked This Way Went

I just finished reading WICKED, by Gregory Maguire.

I know, I know... I'm way behind on my reading... they've already made a smash musical out of it, etc., etc., etc.

Quite frankly, I'm not sure what all the fuss is about. The book brought to mind one of my favorite quotes by Edgar Allen Poe: 'I became insane through long periods of horrible sanity.' Only in this case, I became 'bored through long periods of horrible boredom'. While I appreciated a new perspective on the Wicked Witch of the West; troubled childhood (overly-religious father, amoral mother and saintly arm-less sister), sympathy with animals (flying monkeys are now explained), a tragic love affair, her political activism in an uncertain political climate, etc., the book's meanderings put the Yellow Brick road to shame. No complaint with the actual mechanics of the writing, some excellent wordcraft, a touch of humor here and there, and Maguire did manage to make me actually like poor Elphaba; green-skin, pointy teeth and murderous tendencies aside. But I hated how story lines were begun and then dropped, characters introduced then shuffled off into the shadows, and the overall 'Harry Potterish' feel of an Oz gone bad.

The ending was a manic recreation of what we already knew through the movie, as though the author had only just realized he had to tie this long, long tale up somehow, in a way that made some kind of sense to the reader. By that point, the Wicked Witch was either insane, bored , or both (see above quote by E.A. Poe).

I was, in a word, disappointed.

Why Didn't I Think Of This?

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Did you know that 51% percent of the public, including 58% of women, believe in ghosts? (This according to a Harris Poll survey conducted online between Jan. 21-27, 2003.) Personally, I think the number is higher, but people aren't willing to admit it... until something happens to shake them up.

Like what happened to my own family when we moved into a rental house back in the mid 90's. My stepdaughter came to me one morning with a fantastic story about a bathroom door that opened by itself, and a ghostly figure who peeked in on her while she was 'indisposed'. She was sufficiently freaked out for me to take her seriously, so I did some snooping into the background of the house by calling the realtor who'd rented it to us.

Imagine the chill that went down my spine when I learned the place had been the scene of a murder/suicide. Imagine the deeper chill went I went to the library and found the actual newspaper clippings that told the whole story: the owner of the home had been a bit of a 'player', who unfortunately for him, pissed off one girlfriend too many. Imagine the goosebumps when I read the details of the murder and discovered he'd been shot to death outside the bathroom door, right where my daughter had seen a 'ghostly figure'. Imagine the rumble of the moving truck as we left that house behind less than a month later.

Yep, that experience was enough to make a believer out of my skeptic husband and daughter. Me... I was a believer already, but that's another blog. :-)

Anybody else have any 'goosebump' moments?

The Perfect Man is Not Perfect

This picture cracks me up:



I sent it to one of my sisters a while back (she’s been divorced for a while, is a size 4 who looks great in red, and has a little dog). Unlike the poor stiff in photo, my sister is a very attractive woman, and she’s had her share of dates, but her pickiness became a family joke – “He’s too short, he’s too old, he’s losing his hair, he didn’t open the car door for me, he can’t spell (seriously-she rejected some poor ‘schmo because of his poor email skills), he talks too much, he talks too little, he has teenagers, etc., etc., etc.

And then, a few months ago, she met Mr. Right. She’s head over heels in love with a man who fits NONE of her previous requirements – he’s short, graying, has a very strong Brooklyn accent (we’re from the South, ya’ll), has a teenage daughter, and spoils his dog more than you’d ever believe possible. In short, he’s wonderful.

The point here is that the 'Perfect Man' is in the eye of the beholder. While we teased my sister mercilessly about her pickiness, it turns out she was right to wait. What turns you off in one person can be irresistibly attractive in someone else.

Here's to pickiness! Women of the world, don't settle for anything less than the Perfect Man... who, if he's truly perfect, won't be. :-)

My Den of Iniquity

It's hurricane season in paradise, and we've just survived our first brush with bad weather, otherwise known as Tropical Storm Alberto. A false alarm, luckily, but our cupboards are stocked and emergency supplies laid in; the bottled water, the batteries, the pet food, and most importantly... the merlot. ;) The storm has passed us by this time, but what about the next time? The National Weather Service will be calling the next storm of any note 'Beryl'. With a name like that it'll be hard to take anything above a Category 4 storm very seriously.

One 'hurricane preparedness' suggestion is to take pictures of your house and your belongings, in case disaster strikes and you need proof for the insurance company. Cheerful thought, hm? Anyway, my husband took this picture today of my office.



"Step right up, folks. You, too, can see the spot where demented tales from the dark side are devised..."

And yes, that is a dancing monkey on my computer screen, thank you very much.

Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

I spent most of my day today redesigning my blog, and despite the extreme 'pinkness', I love the new look. I needed a break from writing, though I'm very happy to report that the first completed draft of WHERE THE GHOULS ARE is finished! My creative urges were still bubbling, so I switched gears and dusted off my HTML skills. As a former computer geek, old habits die hard, and I find it easier to teach myself how to update my web stuff than to get someone else to do it. :-)

I'm also re-doing my website with a new pink and black color scheme, but that isn't finished yet -- another few days should do it. Then my brain should be ready to go back and do more revising on the latest manuscript.

In the meantime, I'm thinking pink. And black. (I'm wearing them, too.)

Crunch Time

I'm sure it's obvious that I don't blog as much as some people do. One excuse for that is that I don't want to bore anyone with descriptions of what I ate for breakfast (Yogurt Burst Cheerios, vanilla-flavored) or angst over life in general (so what if those extra five pounds just won't go away?) I'm sure no one cares how many miles I walked this morning or how brilliant my children are or how my dog understands more words of English than many humans I know.

No, my main excuse is that I'm working, working, working, on finishing the second of my two soon-to-be-published novels, Dead Girls Are Easy and Where The Ghouls Are.

Where The Ghouls Are is nearly finished. YAY! I'm working on the final chapter this weekend, and with any luck, I'll reach those two little words, 'THE END', by midweek.

I may celebrate by taking a walk on the wild side - scrambled eggs for breakfast instead of Cheerios! Bet you can't wait to read about that!

Dead Girls Are Easily Flattered

I got the nicest compliment the other day.

Kristin Nelson of Nelson Literary Agency (who is NOT my agent, by the way) just posted a blog entry entitled “One that Got Away – And I Regret It’. To my utter surprise, she was talking about me!

http://pubrants.blogspot.com/2006/05/one-that-got-awayand-i-regret-it-part.html

Just to give you some background, I queried three different literary agencies last year with my quirky paranormal, DEAD GIRLS ARE EASY. (Only three, you say? Yes, only three, but they were my top three – each carefully selected and highly recommended. I was told to shoot for the stars, so I did, but believe me, I would’ve kept sending that baby out if necessary!)

Anyway, I was lucky enough to receive interest from all three agencies. Kristin called me last June, and while she was very enthusiastic about the manuscript and very professional, she told me that she was swamped at the office and was afraid she couldn’t give the manuscript the editorial feedback it deserved. I could tell she was on the fence, and came away feeling good about the conversation instead of bummed. The other two agencies both made offers of representation, and I chose the one I felt was the best fit for me.

Best decision I ever made, and I don’t regret a thing.

Still, it was nice to be somebody else’s ‘regret’ for a change! :-)

Gone But Not Forgotten

The last Mother's Day I spent with my mother was in 1998, and she was dying. We'd known it was coming - she'd been diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, better known as 'Lou Gehrig's disease') two years earlier, and had spent the previous 18 months bedridden and on a respirator. ALS slowly robbed her of her ability to move, speak or breath, but it never took away her sweetness, gentleness, or her sense of humor - she was writing jokes on a legal pad until the day she died. So today, on the anniversary of her death, I'm moved to post a memorium:

In loving memory of Louise Bohannon
March 9, 1925 - May 16, 1998

Eight years without you hasn’t dimmed the memories of the sparkle in your eye, the softness of your touch, the smell of your perfume. I see you in my dreams, in the faces of my sisters, in the roses in my garden. I know I’ll see you again with a smile on your face, waiting on the other side, just as I know you were waiting for Jon when he followed you over. Keep him out of trouble over there, will ya? All my love, now and forever,

Terri

Oh, To Be A Writer

The Writer

Oh, to be a writer!
Indeed.
To be the one with command of the pen;
And, have us read
Tales too spicy and scary,
Tales too delicious and delightful
For ears to merely hear.
No, no! Tales to be read by all
No less than this is for the true writer!

Apparently I'm not the only creative one in my family.

My daughter wrote this for me when I sold my first book last fall. She found a poster-size piece of paper that looks like a giant scroll, and handwrote it for me as a gift. It hangs on my office wall, where I can look at it every day.

Oh, to be a writer. Indeed.

Spooked In Savannah

I have no doubt that anyone who reads what I’m about to write will think I’m making it up. As Ripley said, you can Believe It or Not, but it's the honest truth.

My husband and I just got back from a weekend trip to Savannah. We rented the second floor of a neat old townhouse (rumored to be haunted) in the historic district.
My sister came down from Atlanta to spend Friday night and Saturday with us. Before dinner on Friday we were sitting in the living room talking, having a beer (my sister) and a glass of wine (us). There was a small coffee table in front of the couch. When we got up to go out to dinner, my husband knocked over his glass of red wine (quarter-full) and it got all over the rug, so we moved the coffee table and cleaned up the mess as quick as we could before it stained. Then we moved the table back where it was, walked out the door and went to dinner.

After dinner, my husband dropped us off in front while he went looking for a parking place. My sister stopped at the foot of the stairs and said, "Let's wait for Bob". I teased her about being scared, but it turns out she actually was. She didn't want to go in without Bob, even though we'd been in and out all day, and Bob & I had already spent a very peaceful night in the place. I poo-poo’ed her fears, and made her come in, but she was still scared. We'd left the lights on, so she and I walked all through the place while I tried to show her everything was ok.

By then, we were back in the living room and Bob came in. I was still teasing my sister about being scared as Bob walked over to the coffee table to put down his keys. He said, "Who did this?" and pointed at an empty beer bottle.

It was UPSIDE DOWN. It was sitting, perfectly centered in the middle of the coaster where she'd left it, but it was balanced on the smallest part - the TOP, not the BOTTOM. There was absolutely no way it could've been like that when we moved the table, because it would've fallen over. We'd all three been together the entire time, both before dinner, during and after, except while Bob parked the car. If one of us had done it on purpose, we'd certainly have seen it.

And that’s not all. The doorbell rang twice on Friday, and there was no one there. When we tried ringing it ourselves, it didn’t work, even though we tried it repeatedly over the course of our stay. The answering machine registered five different messages, all just dial tones and ‘If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again’ messages, all recorded in the wee hours of the morning, though the phone didn’t ring. We know the phone worked fine because we did receive one legitimate call while we were there.

Last, but certainly not least, we took a lot of pictures, and they all turned out beautifully EXCEPT for the ones taken inside the townhouse... those had a fuzzy, 3-D effect over the face of whoever was in the picture, while the rest of the picture was fine.

Creepy? Definitely. Explainable? To a skeptic, I suppose. But I’m here to tell ya, I was glad to leave Savannah and that townhouse behind.